


morgan's brothers

by Areiton



Series: the family we make [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Character Study, Childhood, Family of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Avengers:Endgame, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Morgan Stark has twelve dolls and four hundred stuffed animals. She has twenty black dress shoes and--Mama says--more clothes than she has. She has a bike in red and gold and one in silver and rose, and one in blue and red. She has a tent and a thousand books, a fluffy cat that lives under the porch and a stuffed puppy she sleeps with and Daddy calls Underoos.She has two uncles and a mama and a daddy, and a Ms. Nat and best of all--she has two brothers.





	morgan's brothers

**Author's Note:**

> You should probably read weight of the ones you love first--this is a direct tie into that, but I suppose it can be read alone. Anyway. Morgan and the boyos after the funeral.

Morgan Stark has twelve dolls and four hundred stuffed animals. She has twenty black dress shoes and--Mama says--more clothes than she has. She has a bike in red and gold and one in silver and rose, and one in blue and red. She has a tent and a thousand books, a fluffy cat that lives under the porch and a stuffed puppy she sleeps with and Daddy calls Underoos.

She has two uncles and a mama and a daddy, and a Ms. Nat and best of all--she has two brothers.

~*~

Daddy doesn’t talk about them, except when he drinks his juice and Morgan drinks hers, and sits next to him on Bad Nights. She doesn’t like Bad Nights, because Daddy smells funny and his hands shake and his eyes shine.

But she likes that he tells her about her brothers, on those nights.

He tells her about Harley, about the kind, funny boy he was and the man he grew into, about the cars he built and the way he was never what Daddy expected, but he loved him for that, maybe loved him _more_ because of that.

He tells her about Peter, about swinging through the streets of New York, about his webshooters and his escapades with Ned.

He tells her they were good men, and the best sons, and he tells her they would love her.

Whispers it and sometimes, Mama smiles and it’s sad, not the happy smile she gives Morgan when Morgan draws her something or makes a shiny with FRIDAY.

She has two brothers and she loves them, and her Daddy says they’d love her, and she doesn’t know why she’s never met them.

~*~

“Can I sit here?”

Morgan looks up. He’s dressed in black, and his eyes are red and his lips tremble, a tiny thing that is suppressed in a smile that doesn’t look real. Uncle Happy went to find her a cheeseburger, and she wants to go inside, but Mama is crying again, and Uncle Rhodey is there. He shifts, and she nods.

They sit in silence for a long time, and another boy sits on the stoop next to them, and she leans into his warmth as they rock, back and forth, back and forth. The chain creaks a little--Daddy was always trying to fix it and she giggled because he never could and tears sting in her eyes.

He can’t, now.

“Did you love my Daddy?” she asks, her voice low and soft and shaking.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and it brushes against her hair. “Yeah, sweetheart, I did. We both did.”

She frowns. Remembers what her Mama said, to all the people at Daddy’s wake. She straightens and extends her hand, and says, “Thank you f’r your con’ol’anc. I’m sure my Daddy loved you very much.”

The boy on the stoop makes a noise, choked and she twists to look at him, a frown on her little face.

“Do you--did my daddy love you?”

He nods, and wipes away his tears. “He probably never mentioned me,” he says. “I’m just--he took care of me. I was just a kid--”

She straightens, and her eyes go wide. “Harley,” she breathes. “You’re Harley.”

He goes still and she turns, excited, “And you’re Peter?”

Peter nods, hesitantly and she throws herself into his arms, and finally, finally, cries.

She misses her Daddy and she doesn’t understand what’s happening, why her Mama is crying and Uncle Rhodey is so sad.

But her Daddy told her--your brother would love you.

And he’s here.

They’re both _here._

She cries and she cries, and Peter holds her and shushes her, and all she can think is, _You’re finally here._

~*~

Harley and Peter move in.

It’s not really talked about. It just happens. Mama cries a lot, and Uncle Rhodey drinks like Daddy did on Bad Nights, and is gone when he doesn't. The man with the metal arm comes by and leaves again, and comes back. He looks sad, she thinks, but she never speaks to him. Harley keeps her away, distracts her with games and drawings and stories, while Peter paces and argues and comes back to them, angry and tight lipped.

Harley will touch his shoulder, and murmur in his ear and sometimes Peter will snap at him, but sometimes he’ll relax, quiet, turn into Harley’s touch.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening, or why Daddy hasn’t come home--but she knows her brothers love her and never leave her.

~*~

“Why’d it take so long for you to come back?” she whispers and Peter sighs.

“Because Dad had to rescue me, pillbug.”

“And it took a long time?”

“It took a long time.”

She’s quiet, and then, “Pete? When are we gonna rescue Daddy?”

~*~

She hears them crying sometimes. One night, she creeps from her room and Peter is sitting in Harley’s lap and he’s crying and Harley kisses him, gentle and her heart hurts. She creeps away again, before they can see her.

She thinks being broken and sad is part of being a Stark, and wonders what will break her.

~*~

Mama dresses her in black lace and a tiny hat. She’s better now, than right when her brothers came home. She works and she smiles sometimes, and her eyes aren’t always red.

Her lips tremble, though, and her fingers are tight around Morgan’s as they drive into the city, into the crowds and the memorial.

After, Peter scoops her up and Harley kisses her cheek and they take her for ice cream while Mama talks to the men in suits and Uncle Happy hovers nearby.

“What does it mean?” she asks. “The memor’l.”

“Memorial,’ Harley corrects gently.

“It means everyone here? Loves Dad.”

She looks around, at all the people and the noise, and her heart beats hard and fast in her chest.

~*~

There are photographers at her first day of kindergarten, but there is also Harley, shoving them away and Peter calling their lawyers and Uncle Rhodey, stalking by her side in his shiny blue uniform.

She thinks, this too is what being a Stark means.

~*~

“Pillbug?” Peter murmurs and she looks up at him, tear stained and head aching, amid a mess of newspaper articles. He opens his arms and she throws herself into them, into him, and he catches her.

Holds her steady and strong.

“We--we aren’t gonna rescue Daddy, are we?” she whispers.

He shakes his head, and his eyes are bright with tears when he says, “No, baby, we aren’t.”

~*~

All Starks are broken and sad, she thinks.

This is what will break her.

~*~

Harley holds her when she cries, and Peter coaxes her to eat. Mama slips into her bed and sometimes, held in her arms, she can pretend Daddy is just a few rooms away, and coming soon.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, and Mama shushes her. Croons.

“I know, baby. I know.”

~*~

They tell her stories.

Peter and Harley and Mama. Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Pepper and sometimes, Mister Winter.

It’s not enough. But it’s nice, and Peter laughs, sometimes. Harley grins, quick and easy and she sees them, the brothers her Daddy loved and chose for her, and she thinks--there are three of us.

The world will never forget you.

~*~

Morgan Stark has thirty six dolls and two hundred stuffed animals. She has thirty nine black dress shoes and--Mama says--more clothes than she has. She has a bike in red and gold and one in silver and rose, and one in blue and red and a little car in granny smith green. She has a tent and a thousand books, a fluffy cat that lives under the porch and a stuffed puppy she sleeps with and Daddy called Underoos.

She has two uncles and a mama and once, she had a daddy.

And best of all--she has brothers. He picked them, _chose_ them, and loved them. And when he left to rescue them--he left her two brothers.

She thinks--it’s not enough. Will never be enough. But it’s more than others got, and it’s their family, and she loves them. They love her and she loves them.

They are her’s.

She is their’s.

Daddy, she thinks, would be happy.


End file.
